


Observations

by ookaookaooka



Series: Vision Explores the Universe [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-29
Updated: 2015-09-29
Packaged: 2018-04-23 23:52:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4897057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ookaookaooka/pseuds/ookaookaooka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before they really get to know one another, Wanda thinks about the Vision.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Observations

**Author's Note:**

> Eventually this will not be so short

The Vision was strange. No, scratch that, he was downright odd. And yet, Wanda still found him fascinating.

For one thing, he hardly seemed to eat. Whether it was because he was a robot or simply because he was picky, Wanda couldn’t tell, but every meal she would see him picking at his food, deliberately serving himself small portions and eating like a bird. Or perhaps, she thought, it was that his portions only looked small in comparison to the mountains of food on Wilson’s, Rhodes’, and Captain Rogers’ plates--and Pietro’s, too, she recalled with a pang. They never seemed to get full.

“The two most difficult senses for a machine to emulate are taste and smell,” he said when she questioned him about it. “Even for one such as Ultron. I simply do not derive the same pleasure from eating as humans do. In truth, I do not need to eat--I receive all the energy I require from my gem, though I do need to ingest various liquids including water to maintain my functionality. Sunlight is highly beneficial as well,” he said, smiling up at the sky, “and I enjoy conversing over meals with our team.” He then met her gaze seriously, his eyes blue and piercing. “I did not mean to be rude. That was not my intention.”

Wanda had smiled, shook her head, looked down. “You were not rude, don’t worry. I don’t think anyone else noticed.”

“But you thought it was strange.” His face was unreadable; his mind was tinted orange with concern.

She did not know what she thought it was.

If he was undersensitive to flavors, he was perhaps oversensitive to tactile sensations. She found him once, standing in front of one of the big fans in the hangar where they practiced aerial maneuvers, brushing his hand up and down the slats, quietly marveling at the flow of air between his fingers. Another time, he plunged his hand without warning into a pot of boiling pasta, and laughed as rotini frothed around his wrist.

Other times, he would slip discreetly out during training and sit in the hallway with his head in his hands, and when she would read his mind it was full of a chaotic jumble of information, memories and data and diagnostics all jamming up his processors, waiting to be sorted out. Which he would, one by one, a process which sometimes took hours. Each time this happened, she would debate over sending him telepathic encouragement, but he had proven to be uniquely sensitive to her mental probing and she didn’t want him to figure out she had been eavesdropping.

He was, she thought, such a raw soul in this world of hardened heroes. Sooner or later, the world was going to chafe.


End file.
